Reality of Fantasy
by Jade4
Summary: Fic that questions the reality of fantasy, as Jareth is made aware of certain things.


Disclaimer : All characters and references from or to the movie 'Labyrinth' belong to Jim  
Henson Productions. I am merely toying with them but will return them unharmed.   
  
This was actually written for a challenge from a friend that didn't think anyone would  
really pick up on it. If you like Jareth too much to see any harm happen to him, even if  
it's merely a story, then stop reading now.   
  
"SO FAR TO FALL CHALLENGE"  
You have to do one (or more) of the following:  
* Kill him  
* Take his magic away permanently  
* Make him lose his throne  
* Have him end up being just a figment of Sarah's warped imagination   
after all.  
* Render him impotent in some other way.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The Reality of Fantasy  
**  
  
"There now," she whispered softly, pulling the leather strap tightly around his ankle to  
make escape futile. "Awe, this won't hurt a bit, I promise."   
  
Looking up into her eyes, he could see the vicious intent that trawled through that brain  
of hers. How could he have been so blinded by her beauty? All the time he devoted  
himself solely to her. His throne...given up because of her. A woman was a terrible  
enemy that men should be wary of, and yet he couldn't help himself.  
  
Walking a few feet away, her hand fell to the counter top. With a smile, she picked up  
the object of her desire and slowly turned around, to face a startled pair of eyes. "You  
know, I could have killed you so easily with a simple spell as I did your magic and your,"  
she paused slightly, smiling wickedly at the thought then continued, "gift. But no. . . I  
wanted to do it myself," she looked him over closely. "Isn't it amazing how the tables  
turn?"  
  
"What are you going to do with that?" he asked softly, eyeing the sharp metal blade.   
Suppressing a shiver of fear, he knew it was too late for him. He knew this was his time.  
. . his time for death. The icy breath beckoned to him as she stepped closer.   
  
"I'm sure you can figure it out," she replied, her grin widening. The wicked look in her  
eyes left little to the imagination as the tip of the blade fell against his chest. "Jareth,  
Jareth, Jareth. . ." she said, toying with him as she slid the blade down his chest, cutting  
the fabric of his shirt. "Careful, we don't want me to make a mistake, do we?"   
  
Jareth's breaths were short, as his frenzied thoughts ran wild at just what she would do.   
Was it not enough that he'd already been broken, his will snapped into a million pieces  
and just because of her. Even physical pleasure had taken a toll to her misguided  
vengeance. Worn out and incapable of love except on rare occasion, he wouldn't forgive  
her. That fateful spell stripped him of his manliness.   
  
Catching her eyes, he wondered if he could bargain with her. Something, anything she  
wanted. . . for his life? The cool metal blade touched his skin and he jumped.   
  
"Oops," she snickered, his red blood flowing from the wound. "Now, I told you to be  
careful," she grinned.  
  
"I'll give you anything, please?" he said, feeling the blade moving back upwards.   
  
"There is one thing," she whispered, kneeling at his side. Quickly, she kissed his lips one  
last time. Pulling away, she silently stood up, her eyes taking on a darker look, an evil  
look. With a grin, she held the knife at the ready, slowly lowering it to hover above his  
chest. "Your life."  
  
Jareth gasped as the sudden realization of the statement sunk into him.   
  
Without a word, she struck, sinking the blade deep in the pale flesh without resistance.   
As his screams of agony turned to mild gurgled whimpers, she took a step back to admire  
her handiwork. She watched with fascination as his chest raised and lowered for the last  
time. His breath had finally stopped, and she smiled. Once and for all, the man of her  
imagination had finally been banished. She was now free.   
  
"Sarah?" a voice broke her thought, making her glance up from the book she was reading.   
  
  
"Yeah?" she whispered, acknowledging her father standing there.   
  
"Are you going to read all night?" he asked, an amused smile crossing his face. "You get  
so wound up in your books, you'd think them real sometimes."   
  
Sitting up in her chair, she closed the pages. She knew where her father was coming  
from. With a smile, she had to admit he was right. Her imagination carried her away  
most times, and even this last one had her so into the story she hadn't realized she was  
being called. "I'm sorry," she apologized, then continued, "I'm glad that I've not met the  
man in this book though. This Jareth was so evil. . ." she trailed off. Yes, imagination is  
a good thing to have, as long as you don't forget what is real, and what is just fantasy. 


End file.
